I Just Shot John Lennon
by HerNamewasAlice
Summary: (the title is a metaphor). Nothing is helping him. Countless treatments. Endless sessions. He's too traumatized. The only thing that makes him feel alive is Cassie. JasonXCassie; "Sweetest Friend" ship


**A/N: Warning: violence, depression, mental breakdowns.**

**light CassieXJason**

**Since (well I think that I did) invented the pair CassieXJason, they shall be called from now on, "Sweetest Friend." The term comes from Johnny Cash's song "Hurt" (it is actually a NIN song, but I like Johnny Cash's version better even though I'm a big fan of NIN). The song is about growing up, facing pain and struggle, losing everything, and finding yourself. **

_**Chorus:**_

**_What have I become _  
_ My sweetest friend?_  
_ Everyone I know goes away _  
_ In the end _  
_ And you could have it all _  
_ My empire of dirt _  
_ I will let you down _  
_ I will make you hurt_ **

**The song reminds me of them since he is troubled and hurt but she is there for him. Cassie is his sweetest friend, a friend that is there for him regardless of what he has done. She loves him and he loves her but he hates what he puts her through. So, anyways, here you go, another "Sweetest Friend" fic :D**

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**Summary: (the title is a metaphor). Nothing is helping him. Countless treatments. Endless sessions. He's too traumatized. The only thing that makes him feel alive is Cassie. JasonXCassie; "Sweetest Friend" ship  
**

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**I Just Shot John Lennon**

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**First Drabble**

Confiding walls. Lifeless objects. Stripped faces. Jason's skin tightened. He hadn't been this terrified since he was bound and hit repeatedly with a crowbar. "Why am I here?" he swallowed, eractically tapping his fingers on his knees.

"You're here so you can get help," the psychiatrist said calmly.

Jason started heaving. "There's nothing wr-rong with m-e." Scared. He was scared.

"There isn't," his psychiatrist responded. He gave Jason an encouraging smile. "It's just that you have things that are holding you back," his tone is gentle but Jason knows it's an act. Everything's an act. "So that's why I'm here to help you. I'm Dr. Nguyen. You can call me another name if you want."

He didn't say anything.

"Your guardian has told me you have been gone for a long time," his voice is collected. Neutral - free from any emotion - Jason could feel his voice putting him back to sleep.

He frowned. Gone. The word mocked him. Doctors don't help anyone that was in the Wayne family. Therapy never helps if you can't tell the doctor the side of you - the side that you're hiding - the side that you were sworn to never reveal. No. Therapy never does help. It never does. "Yes," he emptily said. He wanted to cut himself because Bruce has making him go through this - go through therapist after therapist. Jason's expected to solve his problems but how can you if you can't tell people what your problems were?

The psychiatrist wrote something in his notes. "I see," he nodded. "You must feel lost then."

Jason nodded. "Very."

"Why did you leave?"

He closed his eyes and reminded he had to go along with Bruce's story. Bruce made a story that was paralleled to Jason's experiences but Bruce left out the Joker for Jason's sake. Every time Jason heard the Joker's name, he would have a mental breakdown. "My parents - my real parents - I went to see them - I knew I wasn't supposed to see them," that was partly true. "But I did because I thought they wouldn't hurt me anymore but they hurt me again. And I trusted them. It broke my heart that I ran away for two years."

"What did you do for two years?"

"I slept," he breathed. He took a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs and body. "I slept a lot."

"You're back at home but you don't sleep anymore."

"It just reminds me of how much time I lost from sleeping."

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**Second Drabble  
**

"A lot of bad things happened in your life but were there any good things that happened?" his psychiatrist asked.

Jason looked as his arms and stared at his cuts. He closed his eyes and all he could see was being tied by the_ monster_ and being touched. The Joker didn't just beat him and kill him, he touched Jason. The monster took advantage of Jason. Molested him. He remembered crying and begging for the monster to stop but the monster went on until Jason lost his mind."I got adopted," his tone was dry.

"Was there anything good that happened since you returned?"

"I like someone," he said without thinking. The words slipped out as if his tongue. His eyes lowered to the ground and he interlocked his fingers. "I-I like this gi-rl."

"What's her name?"

"Cassie," he was quick to respond for once. His lips ached to say her name.

"What's she like?"

"She's nice - she's the only person that's really nice to me. She's kind of this Kindergartner teacher nice but it's a good thing. She knows I have problems but she doesn't care," he said fondly. "And she's very fun and funny - and she gets me."

The psychiatrist (Dr. Nguyen) smiled. "You're smiling."

His eyes widened. His fingers went to his lips and slowly; he traced his lips and found a smile on his face.

"You must like her a lot."

"Yes, I do."

"Then why don't you go after her?"

"She's with Tim," his chest constricted and his mouth twitched. "But I really want her," his voice sounded like a child whining for a toy.

"You know you can't."

"I know it's wrong but it's _him_," he hissed, his voice getting hard. He hated Tim. Tim was always taking things that Jason wanted and deserved. They - Bruce - Alfred - Dick -everyone, they loved Tim more than they loved him. "And when I see them together," he frowned and shook his head.

"Is that why you broke Tim's arm the other week?"

"Yes," he said flatly. He wasn't even guilty. It felt good to hurt him - the better him - Tim. That was what Jason called Tim; the better him. Tim was everything that Bruce and the others wanted Jason to be. They wanted him to be smart, polite, popular, and patient. It wasn't him - it just wasn't him - and even though he's back into their lives - they're still trying to change him.

Why can't they accept who he was?

What can't they realize he wasn't the golden child and never will be?

Why can't they be happy with him?

They don't love who he is. They love the idea of the person they want him to be.

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**Third Drabble  
**

He held the notepad in his hands firmly, staring at the blankness of the front page. A pen was in his hand. He looked up at Dr. Nguyen and raised his eyebrow. "So what am I supposed to do?" Jason asked him.

"Draw. Draw me something that makes you sad, angry, and hurt. And then draw me something that makes you feel happy - that makes you at peace with yourself."

Dr. Nguyen waited for ten minutes, watching in fascination as Jason drew. Jason was calm, absorbed with filling the pages of the notepad. He's scribbling - shading - bringing things to life. Jason was always calm when he drew.

"I'm done," the young boy said, looking up at him.

"Would you like to show and share me your drawings?"

He nodded.

The drawings - it brought horror to Dr. Nguyen. They were gory, detailed, disturbing, but they were horrifyingly beautiful. Pages - pages of nothing but a little boy - crying. Jason flipped the pages and Dr. Nguyen saw the pictures move and age, showing progression of Jason's life. He watched as the pictures started from a little boy in the corner - pulling at his hair to him being beaten by eight different men and women, in eight different parts of his life. He stopped flipping the pages and looked at his therapist. "And this what makes me happy," he said as he skipped to the last few pages. "This is me."

Dr. Nguyen became pale. "It's you," it was. Jason was a wonderful artist. He never expected Jason to be one. "Why are you cutting yourself in the picture?"

"Because it makes me happy," Jason said simply. As if...a child...as if a confused, traumatized child. Just like a child, Jason was unaware what was right and wrong. "And so does this," he said, going on to the next page.

It was a drawing of a crowbar.

Just the crowbar.

Nothing else.

"Why does that make you happy?" he asked the boy, but his voice was breaking.

"I think about going back...to wh-ere..." he was speaking slower now. His eyes were dying out and his mouth was twitching into a frown. "To where I ran away. And this crowbar, it reminds me of the place. Where I went for two years, I was at peace with myself but here, here in the real world, I'm not. The world is so horrible - so dark - isolating. I thought when coming back, people would rush to me - hug me - miss me - but they didn't. They forgotten about me and it makes me so sad and lonely. So when I'm sad, I think of this, the crowbar. And I think of the times I had by myself."

"The crowbar, you speak so much of it. Where you hit with it before?"

Killed. "Yes."

"By who."

Jason could feel his mouth aching to scream the name of the monster. "And this," he said, ignoring Dr. Nguyen's question. He leaned closer to his therapist, showing him the new picture. "This makes me happy." It was a picture; of a girl embracing him.

It was a drawing of her - Cassie.

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**Fourth Drabble**

"He's not improving."

Bruce's heart dropped to the empty voice. He couldn't believe what he was hearing from Jason's therapist. "Please," his voice cracked. "Dr. Nguyen - is there any way? You're one of the best psychiatrist-

Dr. Nguyen shook his head. "In all my years, I never had a patient with such severe psychological problems."

"If you have more time would you be able-

"It's be five months. I've done all that I could do but he's only getting worse."

"What am I supposed to do?" his eyes furrowed. This madness - this gnawing madness chewing at his flesh was killing him. He owed Jason so much for letting him die. "I've sent him to all the best psychiatrists around -

"What he has - his mental state, it's severe. It's only going to get worse. Have you...have you considered of getting him lobotomize or sending him to an asylum?"

He shook his head. "I can't do that to him."

"Imagine if you don't."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"They're going to take me away," Jason said, whispering to her. He knew well she and Tim were going on a date, but he wanted to stop her, so he could talk to her for the last time.

She turned back and stared at him, letting go of Tim's hand. "What?" she blinked.

"They're going to take me away," he closed his eyes and frowned.

"Do-do you want to talk about it?" she took a step closer to him.

He nodded. "Just you, not him."

He took her to his room, just him and her. He ran to her arms and buried himself into her, crying. She wrapped him with her arms, despite the shock, and she held him."I don't want to go away. Not again. I don't want to go away," his voice was breaking from his body.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

_Leave Tim. Kiss me. Love me._ "Can you help me kill my fears?"

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**Fifth Drabble  
**

A video was left for him - Bruce.

On top of the video was a written post-it with words saying:

_I am Holden Caulfield. _

_I am John Lennon._

_I am Jason Todd._

Bruce blinked and frowned. The last time he received a video was the night Jason... died. He swallowed the pain and reminded himself that it wasn't like this anymore. Jason is alive. He's here still. He's going to be gone for a while but he will come back. He will. He always did, always. Bruce took a deep breath and played the video.

In the video...Jason was in his room. He was on the bed, sitting down. His eyes were red and he was trembling but they were staring straight at the lens of the camera and straight at Bruce's heart. "I see myself as Holden Caulfield." Holden Caulfield was a main character from the book, The Catcher in the Rye and it was the only book that Jason loved. The story was about a boy that was trying to find himself and trying to protect the innocence of children. "I don't belong here. I can never be what people or society wants to be," he was barely making out his words now. Tears were streaming out of his eyes and he was heaving. "The only p-erson I can be is m-e."

"And," he took a deep breath, his eyes locked on the lens of the camera. "I see myself as John Lennon. I was a good person - w-w-ho d-i-d nothing wrong. All I-I wanted to do was to protect people and m-ake them happy. I-I did no harm to anyone but the monster, he killed me liked the monster that killed John Lennon."

The video went blank for a few seconds and slowly, it went back into focus. Jason was standing on top of the bed, holding a guitar. He was looking up in the direction of where the camera was pointing, but he wasn't looking at it. Bruce held his breath and watched Jason in the video playing the guitar. The music was rapid - cluttered- haste. "_It was fearful night of December eight_," Jason started to sing the opening words.

Bruce automatically knew the song. It was "I Just Shot John Lennon" by The Cranberries.

"_He was returning home from the studio late,_" Jason wasn't looking up anymore. He was focused on playing the guitar. He was running around the room, playing rapidly, following the fast beat. letting the rhythm take him and his mind. "_He had perseptively known that it wouldn't be nice/Because in 1980, he paid the price_/  
_John Lennon died, John Lennon died, John Lennon died/ John Lennon died, John Lennon died, John Lennon died,_" his voice broke out into pained screeches. He was shaking and stopped playing altogether.

He took off his guitar and started to run around, smashing his guitar - at his bed post - his lamp - his window. Breaking - that was all he wanted. He wanted to break things - bring life. Things fell and shattered but he kept running and smashing his guitar everywhere. He was still singing. Even though he wasn't playing the music anymore, he was singing. Singing every verse. All the verses he knew where by heart. His voice wasn't smooth anymore, they were desperate, depressed screeches - crying. Crying out for him - Bruce.

_"He should have never cared/And the man who took his life declared,"_ he threw the broken up pieces of the guitar to the ground and started to pull the bed sheets from the bed. "_He said, I JUST SHOT JOHN LENNON!"_ Jason was tearing the bed sheets into shreds. He was sobbing, crying - crying out for love - for embrace - for care - for a heart to love him. He was jumping, his head twitching at all directions. "_He said, I JUST SHOT JOHN LENNON!"_

_"What a sad and sorry and sickening sight! What a sad and SORRY and SICKENING_ SIGHT!" His voice was getting louder, his face was bloodied red. Anger - anger was consuming him. Anger tearing his mind. "_What a sad and SORRY and SICKENING SIGHT!"_

He tore the pillows in half and feathers poured out everywhere. He punched out all the windows violently - blood was staining his hands but he went on. He punched the walls - the bed - the closet - the dresser - "_I just shot JOHN LENNON!"_ Jason pulled at his hair - pulling with so much aggression that tufts were in his hand.

Bruce wanted to look away but he couldn't.

Jason - he was looking at lenses again and staring into Bruce's heart.

_"I just shot JOHN LENNON! He said, I JUST SHOT JOHN LENNON!" _he screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands on his ears and shook his head back to back. Side to side. Crying and screaming. Screaming and crying. "_What a sad and sorry and SICKENING SIGHT! What a sad and sorry and SICKENING SIGHT!"_

Bleeding, Jason was bleeding.

_"Wh-at a-a sa-d-d a-nd-and-sorry- and sic-kening- sight-sight,"_ his voice was dying out but he kept on, singing the verses._ "He said-he said" - _he was whispering now._ "I j-us-ju-ju" - _he stopped and fell on his knees. He covered his face and cried.

Bruce wiped the tears from his eyes. He couldn't see anymore of this. Just as he was about to turn it off, there was Cassie, coming to Jason in the video. She-she was recording the video, Bruce realized. He watched as she comforted him. Jason took her with open arms and kissed her, begging for her to be with him.

The video blacked out again.

Seconds later, there was Jason, standing in front of the camera. His face was red but there were no more tears. Just emptiness. He waved at the camera and smiled sadly. "I-I am," he began. "I am Holden Caulfield. I am John Lennon. I am Jason Todd. I am...me."

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**End**

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**A/N: The song by The Cranberries is a real song. If you guys can tell I'm into a lot of music. This fic was inspired by The Catcher in the Rye, John Lennon, and other themes.  
**

**What did you think of this "Sweetest Friend" fic? **


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